


Body heat

by I_Write_Midnight_Snacks (Pink_and_Purple_Daisies)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: AH SHIT, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Fantasy elements, Gen, Human Trafficking, Hurt Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling, Suicidal Thoughts, Touch-Starved, Whump, also, incubus Jason Todd, it's not a lot but it's there for a hot second, no beta we die like jason
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29189970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Purple_Daisies/pseuds/I_Write_Midnight_Snacks
Summary: Starvation is the cruelest form of pain for an incubus, a feature built to break his psyche before his body will even cave. The worst part of being sold is the isolation before the auction, days of physical starvation to be sure that he’s nice and desperate by the time he warms a new bed. All his previous owners just got on with it. He never realized how much of a mercy that was, before.Or:Jason is bought by yet another skeezy Gotham billionaire. He knows how things go, by now. He's not about to fall for shit like "I'm not going to hurt you" or "I just want to help" or "You're free to pick a movie".
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 68
Kudos: 342





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a mess. Sorry everyone, I've been meaning to respond to comments, and to leave comments on stuff I've read, but the last few days I just haven't had the mental energy for anything. This exam season keeps being more and more of a disaster with each day, and now it's my birth-month, which means I get another year older this month, and this time it just feels like I've only gone backwards since last year, and my mental health tanked on the first, so I'm just trying to get through things right now. I was actually gonna post either for the vampire AU or the reverse robins AU but I ended up writing and scrapping at least seven full pages of content.
> 
> This is another AU I've had in mind since I saw Ise say the word "succubus" once. My thoughts basically went "ok but what if incubi and succubi got trafficked for sex for being what they are and it's a whole mess". It was meant to be a lot more plotty, but then it just turned into whump and cuddles. I'll try to get better with the second chapter.

The second worst part of being sold is probably the drugs. It’s only the third time, for Jason, but every time he wakes up in a new house, dazed and still dizzy from passing inebriation, with the taste of bile still fresh on his tongue - he remembers his mother, barely conscious and incoherent on the couch, and he almost wishes this was the turn that killed him.

He isn’t sure it counts as luck that it hasn’t happened yet.

There’s a new ceiling, this time, a new bed, but the numbness is the same, and the hunger is the same, even if that won’t last much longer. He’d prefer the soul-deep, bone-chilling hunger over whatever he’s about to experience.

The entire auction is nothing but a drug-induced haze in his memory, lights and voices battling over each other, scratching at his mind like nails on a chalkboard while he struggled with visions of needles piercing skin and forceful hands gripping his arms. He doesn’t even remember who bought him this time. Isn’t sure he cares, other than to know what name to curse.

He can’t feel any chains or rope, which is new, but with the heavy haze still numbing his body, they wouldn’t be needed. Still, careless.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

The voice startles him - it’s dark, Jason’s vision isn’t accustomed yet, but now that he’s looking for it, he can see the shadow to his right, the dark silhouette of a man sitting next to the bed. Waiting.

He tries to swallow against the lump in his throat, but his mouth is dry.

Even sitting down, obscured by the room’s darkness and Jason’s warped perception, the man - his new owner - is _huge_. He’s going to dwarf Jason completely and it’s gonna _hurt so bad_ -

“How is your head?” the man’s gravelly voice breaks through Jason’s panicked musings. He learned a long time ago that ‘fuck you’ is much less an insult than it is a challenge for these people, so he bites back the words, stays silent, and waits. His mind is too hazy, and even if it wasn’t, the soul-crushing hunger from days of isolation hurts like a physical wound, like ice-burn in his entire body, starting deep inside his bones. He can’t move, can’t run away, can’t even fight back when the man stands up, a black silhouette in the dark, even larger than Jason had imagined.

He wants to cry.

The man doesn’t immediately climb in the bed, though. Yet. He moves away, and a few seconds later there’s light - soft and dull, a night light only but still enough to pierce like daggers straight into Jason's addled brain.

“I’m sorry. It’s ok, just take your time to adjust,” the man says, like some kind of cruel joke, but entirely too soft.

“When you can open your eyes, I have some water for you,” he continues.

Jason can’t hold back, doesn't have the energy for it. He scoffs even while squeezing his eyes shut, “Why, s’ya can dose me so' more? No thanks.”

A sigh, and he tenses. They don’t like backtalk, but Jason was never good at doing what other people like. How cruel, then, that fists count as physical contact, even if he’s just exchanging one pain for another.

“I have a fresh pack over here,” the man says, just as the mattress sinks a bit. “They’re all sealed. If it helps, you’re free to take a bottle.” Then, after a second, “Can I ask your name?”

“Fuck off,” Jason snaps.

Why the _fuck_ would an owner want his name? There’s no way he’s giving it away, having his own name ruined by hearing an owner call it out during sex, but why the fuck would the guy even care anyway? Jason is an _incubus_ \- he’s a fucktoy, not a lover.

“Ok,” the man says though, still in that soft, gentle tone that grates on all of Jason’s nerves, still not getting in bed yet.

He could open his eyes, by now.

He doesn’t want to.

“My name is Bruce, then.”

“Don’ fuckin’ care,” he grumbles. Why isn’t this guy just getting on with it?

Jason is so _tired_.

Unconsciousness from drugs is never restful, and he’s been touch-starved for too many days to get any sleep. Unwanted physical contact is still physical contact, so once he’s fucked out, maybe the hunger will abate enough to let him sleep.

If his owner will let him.

If he won’t be in too much _literal_ pain instead.

“Ok. How would you feel about some food, then?” _Bruce_ continues. Jason’s eyes burn, and this time he lets out a harsh laugh, because that’s just _hilarious_. Really.

Typical, but hilarious. If the guy puts his dick anywhere close to Jason’s mouth, he’s biting it off.

“Yeah. ‘M starvin.”

“Ok. I’ll get you some food, then.”

…

_What._

“What?” he croaks, because that’s… so besides the point, Jason is blindsided. Are they having the same conversation?

“Food. You said you’re hungry.”

Jason blinks. Is this guy for real?

_Does he want Jason puking all over his big, fancy bed as soon as they start fucking?_

He looks at the man, because there’s no way he’s for real, chokes back bile at the sight of him at the revelation that he isn’t only tall, he’s _built_ , and he’ll be able to hurt Jason so much, in so many ways, and he glances at his face just to be sure, but he’s… for real.

“I di’n’ mean - I’m no’ - not like tha’.” Fuck. He chokes, blinks back tears, and shuts his eyes back tight again. He’s _playing_ with Jason. He’s going to drag it out and _play with him_ , pretend and make him wait, and Jason is going to give in and _beg for it_ , beg like a common whore, because he’s so starved, so _desperate_ he’s almost falling apart.

He swallows back bile. His skin feels like it’s crawling off, and it hurts. The worst part of being sold is the isolation before the auction, days of physical starvation to be sure that he’s nice and desperate by the time he warms a new bed. All his previous owners just got on with it. He never realized how much of a mercy that was, before.

“Please- Can’t ya’ jus’ - jus’ do it now?” The words taste like ash on his tongue, but he needs to say them, needs to try, because he can take a beating and he can take rape, but starvation is the cruelest form of pain for an incubus, a feature built to break his psyche before his body will even cave. “Please!”

“Do what?”

Games. Jason sniffs. He wants Jason to spell it out - to ask for it himself, like it’s his choice. It’s not. “Fuck me.”

The ensuing silence is thick and heavy, filled with only Jason's breathing, hitched and stuttered.

“Lad…” the man is choked. That makes no sense, though, because Jason is the one being choked by his own body, breaths stuttered and tears burning in squeezed eyes. “You’re a kid,” the man says, like it means something. “I’m not going to rape you.”

“‘S not rape,” he says. It hurts to say. “‘M an incubus.”

“It’s still wrong. I’m not going to touch you, lad.” His voice is hard, resolute as he delivers Jason’s sentence. The sob he’s been holding back for minutes finally bursts forth.

The tears that finally run free feel like fire against frozen skin, racking his whole body with the force of the cries he can't hold back. His owner wants to draw out his torture, and Jason _isn’t going to survive much more of it_ , and desperate sobs escape his parched throat like nothing matters because how owner intends to _torture_ him, so it doesn’t matter how much he cries because he can’t possibly make it any worse,

“No, please-” he begs between sobs “Please, I’ll - I’ll do anything, I’ll be - I’ll be good - please don't - please -” he chokes, coughs, tries again, “whatever you want, I’ll do it - I’ll be - please I’ll be so good, I can be - I can be so good, please - please don’t-”

“Shh-” he’s cut off, a hand over his mouth so large and strong that it could crush him in an instant, but gentle and so warm- “It's ok, it's ok, we'll figure it out, lad."

It's desperate, but the hand on his face is warm, and his whole body is so cold he can't help pushing into it, burrowing into the contact as much as he can. A pitiful wine escapes his throat when the man pulls back, as he moves with the hand as far as he can.

"Please-" he cries, limbs cold and heavy but he moves them as well as he can to grip the man's hand. Bruce could pull away without effort, he's so strong and big Jason doesn't even compare, but he… doesn't.

"Lad?"

Jason pulls at his hand with meager strength. He whines in his throat, "Please," he begs, and pulls the man towards him, anything just to have that contact-

Bruce pulls away, and then back, his hand in Jason's hair before he can muster a cry, and-

And. Stroking his hair with gentle fingers, it's the most contact Jason's had in weeks, the _gentlest_ he's had in years, so much he can't help leaning into every caress.

His newest owner truly is the cruelest. Jason will do anything to have this again.

"Is this ok?" The man asks, as if Jason isn't putty in his hands.

He nods.

"Alright. You're ok, lad. You're ok," Bruce continues, tone patient as soothing as he keeps stroking Jason's tangled hair.

"Please…" he starts, sops. Thinks and tries again, "I'll - I'll do anything, I'll be good, I promise, just…" Just don't stop. Just let me have this again. Just be this gentle, at least once in a while.

"It's alright, lad. You don't need to do anything for me."

He whines, "No, please!"

"Shh, shh," the hand stops stroking to scratch softly, and it's heaven for the touch-starved incubus. "Don't worry. You'll be ok. I promise I'll take care of you. You don't need to do anything for me."

That can't be real. You don't buy a sex demon for no reason - there's a play here, a game that Jason doesn't know the rules to, something that's going to leave him starved and desperate and broken all over again, but-

But this is so nice. The warmth of Bruce's hand is seeping into his skin and soothing the aching cold inside him, and he dares to reach out, to try and pull more of the man closer.

Maybe, if he's being nice to Jason right now, maybe he'll-

He catches Bruce's other hand, pulls him closer-

"What's wrong, lad? Do you…" he pauses in Jason's grip. After a hesitation, a quick second that stretches into a year, he reaches the second hand out, lays it on Jason's arm. "Is this ok?" He asks, looks for Jason's nod. One knee on the bed, then the other, every movement projected clearly, but Jason keeps nodding, keeps pulling him closer.

He was wrong - he was so wrong. He'd take anything to make that empty ache go away, to stave off the pains of touch-starvation, and even though he's sure it's going to turn awful soon, it's all he can do to stop from pulling the man close faster right now.

"Lad, I want you to tell me that this is ok. I'm going to lie down next to you, alright?" The man says, like there's any answer Jason could possibly give other than a nod and a desperate "please".

Bruce is on top of the covers while Jason is beneath, but already he's warmer than he's been in weeks. The hand returns to his hair as Jason pushes the blanket down his body, to his waist. He's dressed in a t-shirt, large and soft, easily big enough to cover his folded wings; one he can't remember from the auction house, and which he didn't notice until just now, but for the moment it's enough - he grabs at Bruce's arm, ignores the surprised sound. The man is so big, and so warm, he could envelop Jason entirely and keep all the cold inside at bay, so he shifts and burrows closer, under the man's arm and right up to his large chest, grabs onto the soft blouse there with desperate, thawing fingers and careful claws.

"Lad?"

"Please," Jason begs. It would have been so easy to keep this contact away, to let Jason become even more starved, to wait until he'd do anything for the smallest scrap of touch. It wouldn't have taken much.

He didn't, though. If Bruce takes this away now, Jason will break.

Instead, he relaxes more on top of the blanket, let's go of some level of tension. "Ok," he says, holding Jason closer. "Alright. We'll figure it out later," he says.

With one hand, he starts combing through Jason's hair again.

Jason sleeps.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is fine.
> 
> If he says it enough, maybe he'll be able to believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep making small changes and adjustments, but I'm not sure there's much else I can do for this chapter. It's not entirely what I wanted for it, but it's a transition I needed to be able to move on, and I wasn't able to just skip over it, either, so it is what it is.
> 
> Also, Bruce is a nightmare to write, and every time he has to take part in a scene I just his a brick wall, lmao. I'll have to work on that, because he's kind of necessary for this story.

Jason wakes up warm and comfortable, to a soft mattress and a strong chest and gentle fingers running in soft circles over the expanse of his back. He wakes up to a churning stomach and seizing lungs, memories of the previous night crashing into him like a bus.

He wakes up with panic tugging at the strands of his consciousness as his owner’s arms cage him in a discordantly gentle hold, knowing better than to push away even as his throat constricts and sends him careening into choking hyperventilation. His owner’s arms tense, powerful and large and _choking_ but he barely gets to brace himself before the man -

Lets go.

He releases Jason, just like that, and pulls away, - Jason would worry about that but his lungs are still seizing and his throat is constricting, and -

“Lad, you need to breathe,” _like he isn’t trying_ “come on. You’re ok. You’ll be alright, just breathe with me.”

Jason chokes around a curse. His eyes are watering, aching at the sharp daylight, and his throat hurts, and panic is coursing through his veins, but the man backed up and - and it helps. He’s off the bed and talking gently, and it’s a mockery, but Jason can inhale.

“Good, that’s good. Now hold, just a second, two, three - you’re doing good. You’re alright.”

The air leaves him in a rush, but the next inhale is smoother.

“Keep going. Just breathe. Hold for a second. There you go. Three, four-”

The exhale is easier this time, even though his body seizes and his breath hitches on the next inhale.

“You’re safe, lad. You’ll be alright.”

Like fuck he is. Jason wants to snarl and curse, to spit in the pervert’s face, but his lungs still burn, and he needs to breathe. He grabs the bed-sheets in tight fists with some petty satisfaction as his claws rip through the fabric - to a man who can afford to buy a child, a set of bedsheets isn’t much, but Jason will take his small victories where he can get them.

He can breathe, though, and eventually it no longer feels like someone is gripping his lungs and _squeezing_ , so he takes a few more seconds, just to brace himself. Last night was… bizarre. He’d almost think he made it all up, if not for the fact that… the frost is mostly gone, reduced to a familiar, minor chill, and yet he can’t feel the aftermath sex anywhere on his body. He’s… even clothed, to some extent. And his owner was holding him, when he woke up, not…

Not doing anything.

To Jason.

_Weird shit,_ he thinks, but shakes away the thought before it can take proper root. It’s time to face the music. It’s a new day, after all, and already he’s on shaky ground - already, he owes his owner a debt. Just the thought makes him gag. He cried and begged, fell apart all over his owner as if the man didn’t already have enough power over him; didn’t have enough ways to hurt him.

“Are you back with me?” his owner - _Bruce_ \- asks.

He’s looking at Jason from where he’s still kneeling next to the bed, his expression twisted into something Jason would almost call concern, if he didn’t know better. He plays the part well enough, at least, and Jason slumps into the bed. Is this what it’s going to be like, with this one? Playing games and tricks, acting roles Jason will have to see through, to figure out the truth behind his owner’s lies - he’s tired just thinking about it. At least if he was a bad actor, it would be easier.

He glares, for lack of a better answer, but for whatever reason, that seems to relieve his new owner, by the slumped shoulders and ease of tension.

“Alright, then,” the man continues. “How are you feeling?”

Terror is churning at his gut, sharp and nauseating. There’s no way in hell he’s admitting that. “Fuck off.”

Bruce looks amused.

Jason wants to hurl. He wants to curse. He wants to lash out.

“How about some food, instead?”

Regardless of his hunger, if he so much as sees any food, Jason will throw up. Maybe he should, just to give Bruce a mess to clean.

Whatever. He’d rather not be beaten on the first day, not until he learns how the man ticks.

“‘M not hungry.”

“Hmm. Alright, then.”

_Hmm?? What the hell is that supposed to mean?_

“You really should have some water, though, at least,” the man continues, and Jason watches with incredulity as he lifts a nine-pack of water bottles onto the edge of the bed from the floor. He stands up then, but rather than getting _onto_ the bed, he steps _away_ , and continues speaking in that same even, calming tone he’d been using the night before. “The door over there leads to the en-suite bathroom. You are free to have a bath or a shower, if you would like. Feel free to lock the door from the inside. I’ll try to return with some more fitting clothes for you.”

“What, the oversized shirt not doing it for you?” Jason sneers, the shirt slipping off one of his shoulders as he’s pushing himself up to a sitting position. “Want me in something more form fitting?”

The man’s face spasms, looking as if he’s grimacing at the same time as he’s trying his fucking hardest not to grimace, and it’s almost painful to watch, really.

“No, I would much rather you wear something comfortable,” he says diplomatically.

Jason scoffs. He swings his legs off the other side of the bed from Bruce, disregarding the water bottles entirely, no matter how parched his throat might be. There’s a lot of ways to define “comfortable clothing”.

But.

But a warm bath sounds heavenly, if the man is really serious about that. The tendrils of cold coursing his body are as familiar as his own skin, at this point, and while heat sources like baths can’t make up for the warmth of physical contact, they… help.

“Whatever you say,” he says, out loud. He tests out his limbs, but he feels… good. His legs hold steady when he stands up. There’s almost no lingering pain, the effects of the drugs have worn out entirely, and Jason… Jason can’t remember the last time he was well enough to heal himself this thoroughly.

Before Willis sold him out to Sionis’ men, definitely. Before he went to jail, even. He thinks that maybe he used to get enough touch sometime before his mom started on drugs. Before he started taking to the streets. Since then, there was always too much damage, and too little touch.

He misses that, dearly; misses his mother’s soft touch, her gentle arms tucking him close to her chest, fingers carding lovingly through his hair. Misses when she used to take care of him.

His owner held him, last night, gentle and warm and big enough to engulf him completely, and he’s taken nothing from Jason în exchange.

That’s… he can’t imagine the price he’ll have to pay.

When the man behind him sighs, Jason tenses, but no violence follows, and when he looks over his shoulder, Bruce has his face in his hands. That… isn’t good. It means the guy angers easily, or he’s unstable, and either way, Jason will have to look out for his moods.

“It’s alright, we’ll work on it.”

_Work on what?_ he wants to scream. What does this guy want from him?

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Bruce continues, to Jason’s shrug, and then just… leaves. Just like that.

Fucking weird.

The bathroom is huge, even going in from the already immense bedroom, and true to Bruce’s words, there’s a lock on the inside that he turns twice before checking the door, just to be sure. There aren’t any chairs inside, to jam under the doorknob; he could get one from the room, but then he’d have to unlock the door again, and he likes that even less. At least if someone opens the door, this way he’ll get enough warning to brace himself.

There’s a shower cabin in one corner - one Jason promptly ignores at the sight of the huge bathtub, with three taps and ample laying down space and _are those nubs for water massages, holy shit_ -

And well. If he’s going to be a fucktoy for an obscenely rich dude, the least Jason can get out of it is a nice bath, and a bathtub is more comfortable than a shower cabin, anyway. He even manages to stretch out his wings, and it pulls painfully at back muscles that have been drawn taut for a long time, in small cages and smaller outfits, but it's not a bad ache.

There’s enough hot water to run all three taps at once, and so many bath products Jason doesn’t even know where to start, but he’s had his owners use bath bombs before, and… the memories make him shudder, but the things seemed cool, and if he gets to be in the tub alone, maybe…

He picks a dark blue one, which turns the water into a galaxy sky around him. When he moves around or gets up, glitter still clings to his skin in shades of silver and light purple that he studies on his arm.

The tap water here tastes much better than the tap water in the narrows, he notices when he takes the chance to fill up on un-drugged water, which just fucking figures. His hair is a mess, but there’s still no noise at the door, so he takes a bit more time, and the conditioner helps him get most of the tangles sorted. His feathers take longer; too long, probably, but he’s never actually learned how to clean them properly, only guessed at it, and they’ve been messy and painful for a while, but he figures it out eventually, only plucking five out by accident.

And when he’s done, there’s nobody rattling the door to come inside, or banging on it demanding him to come outside, so he takes just a little longer, still. The water is so hot, and the clean, floral scent of the products is so nice, Jason almost can’t feel the chill, right now.

He’ll just lay back against the tub, enjoy this for another minute, because nobody told him he couldn’t yet.

By the time he gets out, the water is growing colder, and his skin is sparkly all over, and his back muscles are soothed. He’s sure that the light blue fluff on his shoulder blades is a silvery mess by now, and even the soft towel he rubs all over himself doesn’t take much of the sparkle away, so he resigns himself to whatever perverted comments it’s gonna get him - not as if he hasn’t heard worse already.

The oversized shirt wasn’t much covering, considering that it barely even stayed on him, but it’s better than a towel, so he puts it back on along with the fitted boxers he came in, before unlocking the door. And then… he stops. And waits. For something.

Because nothing happened yet.

_What now?_ his brain is screaming.

_What happens next?_ it asks on repeat.

He has no idea what to expect next, because this isn’t usually how things go - Jason doesn’t get to just sleep a full night and have a warm bath, like a normal person, not without having to do _something_ in exchange, and yet. Here he is. Refreshed, clean and with no clue what to expect from the man who owns him. Not knowing is _dangerous_.

He… isn’t expecting an empty room, or a pile of perfectly normal clothes at the foot of the bed. Just a Tshirt and jeans, more-or-less his size. 

He remembers to lock the door before dressing up, this time managing to jam a chair in there, too, even though he knows his owner is gonna flip his shit if he realizes Jason is trying to keep his body from the man, before finally taking off the large Tshirt.

The shirt is a light blue that matches Jason’s feathers and tail, and he wonders if it’s by design, but it doesn’t look or feel like a newly bought article of clothing, and it's just big enough he can probably fold his wings under it, even though it's nowhere near as large as the one before. The jeans are worn, too. There isn’t a tail hole on them, though so Jason is forced to jam his tail down one of the pants legs.

He carefully doesn’t wonder who they were initially bought for, and what happened to that person.

So he’s not Bruce’s first fucktoy. That’s fine. Normal, even.

It only means that Bruce knows exactly what he’s doing, with Jason, while Jason still has no clue what to expect from Bruce.

_It’s fine_.

He’s clean, now, and dressed, though, so… what now?

He’d spent the night assuming this would be his owner’s bedroom, but looking around now, he can tell it’s not. Sure it’s big, but it’s also empty. Empty shelves and empty surfaces and, upon inspection, an empty closet and drawers. And fresh sheets - very fresh sheets, because Jason knows for a fact he clawed through the ones he woke up on, left gaping holes towards the top of the bed, yet the ones he looks at now are fresh and mended, which means that someone actually changed the sheets while Jason was in the bath.

That’s fine.

He should…. He should unlock the door, now. Before his owner comes back to make use of the freshly made bed and finds the door locked.

That’s…

Jason should do that.

So that he doesn’t push the guy over the edge already.

His fingers feel frozen.

Maybe he can just lock himself in here, instead. On his own. Forever. But if he does, he’ll starve, and then he’ll give up, and his owner will be even angrier when Jason finally lets him in, and then everything will hurt even more.

He’s trapped.

He doesn’t want to open the door. He has no choice but to open the door.

The chair drops with a loud crash, and Jason’s fingers tremble on the lock, almost enough to scratch the door with his claws when he loses his grip, but. But he manages. Somehow.

He wants to cry.

He wants to scream.

He wants to thrash something.

Tears stream down his face in fear and anger and frustration and Jason waits.

And waits.

Slowly, slowly, the urges seep out of his body like the heat from the bath. Terror is muted into numbing dread and burning anger fizzles out, leaving behind an empty cold that has nothing to do with hunger.

The room is empty. There’s nothing to do.

He hopes that’s not how it’s going to be, the entire time here. Locked alone in an empty room with nothing to do, whenever he’s not being used.

But-

He stops short.

The door is unlocked. And nobody told him that he’s to stay in this room, yet.

***

The house is… a lot. He knows that people who can afford to buy kids must have a lot of money, and a lot of things, and really big houses, but he’s never seen much of his previous owners’ houses, and Bruce’s house especially is something else entirely.

He used to pickpocket people to make rent, before.

Meanwhile, Bruce has like, 50 bedrooms, and at least 6 living-rooms with flat-screen TVs and surround sound, or gaming systems, or fireplaces and board-game collections.

And crystal chandeliers.

It’s _too much_.

Jason is also lost.

He’s sure that he turned left, went straight ahead, and up some stairs, then turned right, went straight ahead, and back down another flight of stairs, but he ended up next to the living room he was sure was completely on the other side of the house, instead of where he started, and now he’s going down a hallway that was supposed to have an open area back up the way he came from, but when he turns around and goes straight back, there’s a staircase there instead, even though he _just came from there_ , and nothing in this damn house makes any sense.

He never should have left the bedroom, he should - he needs to go back, before they find him loitering around, but - but he can’t _find it_ because he was sure the bedrooms were on the third floor, in the left hallway facing the driveway, but he can’t find which way the driveway was anymore, because there’s no windows in this hallway, and all the rooms are _locked_ -

He was so dumb, this was dumb, he should have stayed put but now he’s lost, and his eyes are burning, and his chest is heaving, and he’s going to start crying, again, even though he already cried enough since coming here, all because he was an idiot who got lost-

“Oh thank god, there you are.”

Jason jumps out of his skin. He twists towards the voice fast enough to get whiplash - towards Bruce, standing in the crossroads with a hallway he never even noticed, and looking at Jason with wide, surprised eyes, and holding a phone in one hand.

Is he going to snap at Jason for leaving the room, even though he hasn’t forbidden it?

“Sorry, lad, I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you alright?”

Jason tries to nod around his shaky inhales.

The man nods back, eyes roaming over Jason’s body heat to toe, probably noticing the sparkles on his arms and in his fluff and imagining what the rest of him must look like. He forces himself not to shudder under the scrutiny, and tries to take deep breaths, but they still shudder around the lump in his throat.

“I know you weren’t hungry before, but Alfred prepared some light soup for you, and you should really eat a bit,” he says eventually, when his inspection of Jason’s body is done, not commenting on the exploration, which means… it was probably ok?

Jason tries to form words, but his mouth is dry, so he swallows, and tries again. “Ok, whatever,” he manages to say, forces a nonchalant tone in it even though his fingers are still trembling and he’s visibly rattled.

The man seems appeased, though, and Jason goes to follow him.

“Good. We can talk once you’re done eating, then.”

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce: *panics* What am I supposed to do with an incubus child now?  
> Bruce: *panics more* _How do I take care of him?_  
>  Bruce: Kids need food and water. Give him food and water. That's good, right?
> 
> Next time: Finally, a talk.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [personal Tumblr](https://i-preen-for-oikawa.tumblr.com/), but I'm also trying to get my [writing one](https://i-write-midnight-snacks.tumblr.com/) off the ground, so maybe check it out!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Demon in the Details](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29278032) by [SalParadiseLost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalParadiseLost/pseuds/SalParadiseLost)
  * [Let the Devil In](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29364618) by [SalParadiseLost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalParadiseLost/pseuds/SalParadiseLost)




End file.
